


Learn to love yourself

by ClaireBHypno



Series: Flexible [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autofellatio, Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sherlock is flexible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9616541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireBHypno/pseuds/ClaireBHypno
Summary: Early in their relationship, John arrives home to Baker Street to hear what he thinks is Sherlock enthusiastically partaking of a blowjob with another man.... Sherlock proves him wrong.





	

The first time John Watson came home to hear the very enthusiastic slurping noises coming from the bedroom he had lately been sharing with Sherlock Holmes, he was convinced that his worst fear had come true. He trudged dejectedly upstairs to what was still his bedroom – even if he hadn’t spent very much time there lately – and threw himself down on his bed, determinedly not crying as he heard the sounds of the love of his life participating in a very sloppy sounding blowjob. Sherlock had recently discovered his sexuality and, apparently, also realised his Adonis-like form could win him so much more than a short, injured, former Army doctor with PTSD.

He wondered how long it would be until Sherlock took him to one side and explained that it was awkward sharing a flat with his ex-boyfriend now that he was in a new relationship, and didn’t John think it was time he found somewhere else to live? After all, he had a steady job in a surgery not far from Baker Street, so he could easily afford to rent somewhere by himself, and since he would no longer be going out on cases with Sherlock either, he would be much more likely to actually keep this job…

John lay curled up on the bed for a couple of minutes, listening to Sherlock’s moans drifting up through the floor from his room directly underneath John’s own, before deciding he couldn’t stay there, listening to Sherlock’s passionate embracing of his new love life. He thumped his feet on to the floor, stamping over to the wardrobe where his overnight bag was stored, and threw it down onto the bed, yanking the drawers open and randomly grabbing at clean socks and pants. He shoved the desk chair out of the way to get at the socket under the desk and unplugged his phone charger, throwing that in on top of the underwear. He was suddenly aware that the noises from below had stopped, and thought somewhat savagely that it served Sherlock right if his lovemaking was being interrupted. John grabbed at a couple of pairs of trousers, a few shirts and jumpers and rammed them into the bag as well.

“John? I didn’t know you were- John, what’s happened, what’s the matter?” Sherlock’s voice sounded from where he stood naked and hard in the doorway. He was getting increasingly distressed as his quick eyes took in the sight on the bed before him, and his erection started to wilt. John snorted and glared at him angrily, then stepped into the en-suite toilet to collect his toiletry bag from the small medicine cabinet. “John? Talk to me, please! I’m sorry John, whatever I did, I’m sorry!” John stopped dead, his hands forming into fists, and he slammed one down on the top of the toilet tank, causing it to rattle noisily. He spun on his heel and stormed out of the tiny room, eyes flashing angrily.

“Whatever you did? Whatever you did, Sherlock? You’re down there with another man, and you’re wondering _what you did?_ ” He advanced on Sherlock, stalking forwards with every word, his anger almost palpable. “Oh don’t look at me like that, pretending innocence, I could _hear_ you… You could have at least told me you don’t want to be with me any more, instead of letting me find out this way.” He turned back to the toilet, angrily shaking Sherlock’s hand from his arm as he did. 

“But John, I _do_ want to be with you, and I’m not with another man!” Sherlock’s eyes were pleading as he followed John into the toilet, and something about the tone of his voice gave John pause – just for a moment.

“Sherlock, I’m not stupid, you’re not with another man right now, _obviously_ ,” he sneered the word out in a parody of Sherlock’s usual tone, “but I’ve had enough sex to recognise the sound of a blowjob when I hear one, and I’d like to think I can recognise the sounds you make when you’re… enjoying yourself…” John slumped to the bed as his steam ran out, and he looked up at Sherlock with his eyes wet. “Look, I’m sorry, of course you can see anyone you want to… but I don’t think I can stay here if you’re bringing other people back, it’s too painful…”

“Oh for God’s sake,” Sherlock said in a tone of annoyance, “I told you, I’m here by myself!” He grabbed John’s hand and pulled him up from the bed, towing him out of the room and down the stairs to his own bedroom. He shoved John in through the door and closed it behind him. His bed had been pulled away from the wall somewhat, and there was a cushion stuck between the bedhead and the wall.

“You have no idea what it took to get this right,” he grumbled, and manhandled John to sit down on the pillows at the far side of the bed. Sherlock lay down, with his head on the other pillow, then the next thing John knew, he was curled up with his legs right over his head, knees on the wooden rail of the bedhead, and feet resting against the wall, as though doing some strange variation on the yoga position The Plough.

“Grab that cushion John, this position is hell on my knees without some kind of padding…” John gaped at the sight next to him, hands automatically moving to pull the cushion out from behind the bed and tuck it under Sherlock’s knees.

“I’ve always been rather flexible,” Sherlock commented, then promptly took his cock into his mouth. As John watched, Sherlock’s long, slender length grew hard again in his mouth, as he sucked and bobbed his head with obvious enjoyment. Very soon he started to make the noises that John had heard coming up through his floorboards. The noises that had driven John to decide he had to leave, and he thought fleetingly that it was strange that those same noises were currently making it impossible for him to even consider going anywhere.

“Oh god Sherlock, that’s amazing,” John whispered, as though the slightest noise might result in Sherlock stopping what he was doing. He trailed his fingers along the back of Sherlock’s thigh, groaning when it resulted in a small shiver from the man, and a deep moan that seemed to set off some sort of feedback loop. The more Sherlock moaned, the better it seemed to feel, and the more he moaned as a result. John yanked open the button on his jeans, pulling the zip down and shoving his hand inside his boxers to squeeze his cock, trying to relieve some of the ache. He turned to kneel up on the bed behind Sherlock, looking down into his eyes, one hand on the back of each of Sherlock’s thighs. He gently exerted pressure, pushing Sherlock’s cock deeper into his mouth. Silver grey eyes widened as they fixed on him then fluttered shut…

Sherlock’s hands moved to cover John’s, and he started to pull away, thinking that his lover was trying to prevent him from taking control, but Sherlock’s eyes snapped open again, and he grabbed for John’s hands, pulling them firmly back into place, and encouraging John to push down on his thighs again. John moved so he was pressed right up against Sherlock’s back, hips tucked in close, and leaned forward, his weight pressing down on Sherlock’s thighs. Rolling his hips meant Sherlock’s cock was pushed further into his mouth than he could manage purely by bobbing his head, and the sight of it fascinated John – it was as though he was fucking Sherlock’s mouth by proxy.

“That’s it, Sherlock, take it, suck that cock,” John panted, and he yanked his jeans and boxers down around his knees, rubbing his cock against the smooth skin of Sherlock’s back. He thrust faster and faster, pushing Sherlock’s cock into his mouth; Sherlock was moaning almost continually, his hands fisted in the bedsheets by his sides. A sudden tensing of his muscles, and Sherlock was coming inside his own mouth.

“Fuck Sherlock!” John gasped, and pulled back on Sherlock’s thighs, so the last few spurts landed across his lips instead of inside them. John manoeuvred somehow – he wasn’t exactly sure how – unrolling Sherlock flat onto his back, and straddling Sherlock’s chest, fist flying over his own cock. With a hoarse groan, he came hard, adding to the mess on Sherlock’s face, and even managing a couple of extra spurts when Sherlock dropped his jaw so John could come in his mouth.

John dropped onto his back at Sherlock’s side, panting and sweating. “Jesus Sherlock, where did you learn to do that?”

“Like I said, John, I’ve always been flexible…”


End file.
